


We’re On This Foolish Track

by Lalalli



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era AU, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 17:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14217666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalalli/pseuds/Lalalli
Summary: For all that Jemma teases Fitz whenever she gets a better grade than him, their rivalry, if it can even be called that, is mostly friendly.  She’s proud of all his accomplishments. She would never resent him for doing something better than her.So she’s not exactly sure why she’s so irked that Fitz loses his virginity before her.





	We’re On This Foolish Track

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to try writing smut. I didn’t start this fic intending for this to happen, but it turns out that if you try to write a story about sex without including the sex, it ends up being really short.

For all that Jemma teases Fitz whenever she gets a better grade than him, their rivalry, if it can even be called that, is mostly friendly. They push each other to do their best - it’s what makes their friendship so strong. And Jemma knows that Fitz could easily win any challenge she sets if he applied himself. He wouldn’t be her best friend if she didn’t have a high opinion of him.

And whenever Fitz does get a higher grade than her, Jemma lets him rub it in her face and congratulates him good-naturedly. She’s proud of all his accomplishments. She would never resent him for doing something better than her.

So she’s not exactly sure why she’s so irked that Fitz loses his virginity before her.

It’s not like it’s a competition. It’s not like she’d ever thought about when or how it would happen. But she supposes, in the back of her mind, that as the person in their friendship who dates more often and has a far superior sense of fashion, that she must’ve subconsciously thought that she would be the one to lose her virginity first.

Maybe part of it is that when Jemma looks at Fitz, she still sees the same scrawny 15 year old with overgrown curls that she met on their first day at the Academy. But, as she studies him, she realizes that he’s not. It’s only been four years, but he’s put on a bit of muscle since they started practicing for their field assessment, and he carries himself with a bit more confidence now than he used to, and he has a very handsome layer of stubble on his jawline that he keeps out of general laziness rather than aesthetics, but still. It suits him.

“You’re staring at me again,” Fitz says from his spot at the head of his bed, without looking up from his book.

“Sorry.” Jemma tilts her head and squints a bit. She knows she should be studying any one of the plethora of books piled around her on Fitz’s bed, but Fitz is a much more fascinating subject.

“You’re weirding me out.”

“I just…” Jemma huffs. “Are you going to see her again?”

Fitz finally looks up at her. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

Jemma frowns. “Why not?”

Fitz shrugs. “She kind of indicated she’d like it to be a one time thing.”

“And you were okay with that?” Jemma asks, more curious than judgmental.

“Well, yeah. Obviously. Should I not have been?”

“No,” Jemma mutters, more to herself than to him. “I suppose not.” She flops sideways across his mattress, onto his pillow, and tries not to think about how good it smells.

Fitz furrows his brow. “It bothers you,” he observes, surprised.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Why are you upset about it?”

“I’m not!” Jemma protests, vaguely cognizant of the fact that she’s whining.

“It’s not a big deal - you’re the one who’s always saying that virginity is just a social construct that -“

“Oh, spare me,” Jemma scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“I’m just surprised you’re getting all puritanical on me.”

Jemma sits up with a start. “I am not!”

“Just because I didn’t save it for -“

“I am _not_ saving it!” And it’s true. There’s not really a good reason she hasn’t had sex yet other than lack of opportunity.

“You’ve had boyfriends,” Fitz points out when Jemma explains this.

“Yeah, but.” Jemma huffs. “It’s not like I wanted it to be _special_. I just wanted it to be _fun_.”

Fitz looks a bit doubtful. “And you didn’t think it would be fun?”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Not with them. They were so boring. And not very good with their hands.” Plus, it didn’t really help that Jemma kept on comparing them to Fitz, but he doesn’t need to know that. And then because her subconscious just really wants to embarrass her tonight, her eyes dart down to Fitz’s hands.

Jemma immediately redirects her gaze to his face, which is where one should always look at a person if one wishes to avoid accidentally sexually harassing them.

Unfortunately for her, Fitz definitely notices that she was admiring his hands. He smirks at her, which draws Jemma’s attention to his lips, which is really just so unfair. Jemma should find his cockiness annoying, not...well...hot.

“So that’s all your looking for?” Fitz asks. “Good with their hands?”

Jemma swallows. “I mean, they should also be interesting. And should probably be someone I trust, who I know would make it good for me. Not just cram it up in there, all ‘Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.’”

Jemma expects a laugh, or even just a snort. But instead, Fitz just fidgets, crossing his arms over his chest, reaching up to scratch behind his ear with one finger, shifting his weight a bit as he looks over Jemma’s shoulder. “Um. Feel free to tell me I’m being an arse.”

“You’re being an arse,” Jemma responds reflexively.

Fitz doesn’t acknowledge her immaturity beyond shooting her a withering glare. “It’s just. Uh. It kind of seems like you’re hinting at something...”

Jemma flushes when the implication catches up to her. “What? No...I would never…” Her voice sounds squeaky and unconvincing, even to her. Which is ridiculous, because it wasn’t like she was even intending to hint at that. Even if she does trust him, and she does think he’s interesting, and he does have nice hands…

“And, uh, I just wanted to let you know that I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed.” Fitz drops his hands into his lap, suddenly preoccupied with inspecting his fingernails. “To that,” he finishes lamely, avoiding Jemma’s eyes.

Jemma’s mouth goes dry. “Really?”

Fitz shrugs, still looking down at his lap. “I mean, it’s not like it’d be a hardship. We’re best friends, so it’d probably be fun, and you’re beautiful, so...yeah.” Fitz finally meets Jemma’s eyes. “It's up to you.”

Jemma bites her bottom lip. “I...uh...I’ll take that into consideration..” Because she should definitely think about it first instead of just flinging herself across the bed at him, which is her first instinct. “Thanks,” she adds belatedly.

Fitz shrugs again, as though offering to have sex with his best friend is just a part of an everyday, casual conversation. “No, yeah, of course. Keep me posted.” He swallows heavily, looking back down at his notebook. “What did you get for number 57?”

*

The more Jemma thinks about it, the more she thinks it’s not the best idea. Which is unfortunate, because she thinks about it _a lot_.

Part of her worries that if she takes Fitz up on his offer, she won’t be able to look at him again without thinking about having sex with him. Which, come to think about it, isn’t all that different from how she’s currently operating.

It’s gotten to the point where she can’t look at him without blushing, can’t concentrate on her homework around him, can’t be alone with him without thinking about jumping him.

Which is ridiculous, because they watch movies in his room every Saturday night, just the two of them, so it’s not like being alone with him is anything new. But she’s very aware that his door is closed and they’re sitting on his bed and that their arms are pressed together and it would really just take a slight shift in weight for them to be horizontal.

At this point, it’s probably safe to say that she’s going to be thinking about it for the foreseeable future. So she has two options. She can continue to ignore her very inconvenient thoughts and fantasies. Or she can get it all out of her system.

“Do you have condoms in your room?” Jemma asks, realizing belatedly that it’ll probably freak Fitz out, coming out of nowhere like that.

As is to be expected, Fitz’s entire body tenses. “Yeah, I do,” he says slowly, cautiously.

“Oh, good,” Jemma breathes out, relieved, and immediately lunges forward to press her lips to his.

Fitz turns to look at her at the same time, and their chins knock violently together.

“Ow,” Jemma complains, leaning back.

“Jesus, Jemma. Warn a guy next time,” Fitz grumbles, rubbing his face.

Jemma opens her mouth to respond, but before any words can come out, Fitz is leaning in to kiss her. It’s a lot smoother this time, with his lips actually finding hers, and it doesn’t take long before their mouths are open and the kiss gets messy and wet. Fitz slides one hand into her hair, cradling her jaw gently, and Jemma leans in closer to him, grasping his shoulders before wrapping her arms around him.

It’s not like Jemma has never made out with anyone before. She’s definitely been to second base, maybe even third. But for some reason, it’s never felt like this, her whole body tingling with anticipation, all her nerves on fire. She could spend the entire night doing nothing but kissing Fitz.

So it’s very disappointing when he pulls back.

“I, um. How far were you hoping to go tonight?” Fitz asks.

Jemma blinks, her mind still a little hazy. “All the way, right? That’s the whole point.”

Fitz looks at her expectantly, his face a little flushed. “Ok, but I just need to make sure that your definition of ‘all the way’ and my definition of ‘all the way’ are the same.”

Jemma furrows her brow. “I mean...your penis in my vagina?”

Fitz gapes at her for a moment. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but apparently decides against it, instead shaking his head with an amused smile and leaning in to kiss her again.

Jemma shifts her weight to her knees, leaning over Fitz without breaking their kiss. He takes the hint, grabbing her hips and falling easily onto his back, head hitting his pillow. When his fingertips slide under her sweater, warm against her skin, she figures they’re just going for it and sits up to pull her sweater off.

Fitz swallows heavily, eyes roaming over her chest. Jemma tugs on the hem of his shirt. “Your turn.”

Fitz sits up to pull off his shirt. Jemma leans in, expecting him to lie back down, but instead he lurches forward to bury his face in her breasts. Jemma laughs, threading her fingers in his hair and scratching his scalp affectionately. But then Fitz noses the cup of her bra down and wraps his lips around her nipple, and Jemma’s laugh turns into a choked moan. She reaches back to take off her bra and arches into him, desperate for more. “Oh my God.”

That seems to encourage Fitz - she feels him smile against her skin, and he switches over to her other breast, bringing up his hand to palm the one he just left behind. Jemma squirms in his lap, needing friction, needing _more_. Fitz’s other hand slides to the middle of her back, his fingers spread wide and pressing her closer to him.

Jemma groans, frantically rolling her hips into his. She’s acutely aware of the fact that she’s basically just dry humping him like the horny teenager she is, but she can’t help it.

Jemma’s hands slide down to his shoulders. “Fitz.”

“Mmmph?”

Jemma shoves his shoulders back a bit and scrambles off the bed.

Fitz’s eyes widen. “Sorry! Was that-”

“Clothes off,” Jemma demands, wriggling out of her jeans and underwear. “Now.”

“You’re so bossy,” Fitz complains, even though he’s very quick to comply.

Jemma takes a moment to stare at him. It’s not like she’s never seen a penis before. She has a Ph.D. In Biology. She’s seen penises in the forms of anatomical diagrams, unsolicited dick pics, lab cadavers, and hospital patients.

But she’s never seen one in this context before. And her response this time, biologically speaking, is very different.

It takes another moment for her to realize that Fitz is staring at her too. “You’re kind of out of my league,” he observes as Jemma climbs onto the bed next to him.

Jemma snorts as she pulls him on top of her. “Says the person in this room who’s actually had sex before.”

Fitz leans down to kiss her again. “Yeah, I don’t feel sorry for you. It’s only because you were being picky.”

“I’m still being picky.” Jemma lets out a sharp exhale, squirming as Fitz’s fingers trail up her inner thighs. “I’m just picking you.”

And then his fingers are swiping through her folds and pressing down hard on her clit. Jemma squeezes her eyes shut and lets out a strangled moan. She’s done this to herself before, but it was nothing like this, primarily because his fingers are bigger and rougher and connected to her best friend.

Jemma comes for the first time with his breath hot on her neck, his palm on her clit, and two fingers inside of her. It takes a few moments for her heart rate to return to normal, but when it does, she opens her eyes and demands, “Get the condom.”

“Really?” Fitz asks doubtfully, continuing to pump his fingers slowly inside of her. “Because it’s your first time - I can do more to get you ready.” He slips another finger inside of her.

Jemma groans and pushes at his arm. “Trust me, it would be hard to get me readier.”

Fitz grins as he reaches into the drawer of his bedside table. “You must be really hard up if you’re desecrating the English language in that way,” he teases as he pulls out a condom,

Jemma pushes Fitz into his back and straddles him, taking the condom from him. “And I’m clearly not doing enough if you can still use words like ‘desecrating’,” Jemma grumbles, tearing the wrapper open and clumsily rolling the condom onto his dick. She wraps her hand around him and pumps a couple times experimentally.

“Don't do that!” Fitz chokes out, grabbing her hand.

Jemma lets go and holds her hands up. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to -”

“No, it’s fine,” Fitz rushes to reassure her, taking her hands in his and bringing them down to his chest. “Just - you probably don’t want to do that if you want to get to the, um, what did you call it again? Oh yeah, the penis-in-vagina part.”

Jemma flicks his forehead. “Don’t make fun of me.”

Fitz catches her hand and kisses the inside of her wrist. “I would never,” he swears mock-solemnly, grinning up at her.

Jemma takes a deep breath to steady herself and rises to her knees. She takes his dick in her hand again and lines them up. “Ready?”

Fitz holds on to her hips. “Readiest.”

Jemma bites her lip as she sinks down onto him, taking her time as she adjusts to the feeling of fullness inside of her. Despite all of Fitz’s teasing earlier, she can tell that he’s trying his best to stay still, his fingers clenching into her skin each time she moves.

It’s uncomfortable, and it hurts a little, but it’s not _bad_. Just the opposite, actually. She shifts her weight a little once he’s all the way in, and Fitz lets out a strangled moan.

Her movements are exploratory and erratic when she starts riding him. She rocks slowly at first, before leaning forward and speeding up, then slows down again, testing the feel of each angle and speed, trying to figure out what feels good.

Fitz lets out a breathless laugh. “I feel like a science experiment.”

Jemma leans down to kiss him. “A really hot science experiment,” she says unthinkingly.

She finally finds an angle that feels perfect, and she picks up the pace, settling into a steady rhythm. She leans over Fitz, her hair falling around his face like a curtain. “You can move too, you know.”

Fitz slides his hand to her clit, pressing down without any finesse. She can feel another orgasm building, despite starting the evening with low expectations, and when Fitz bucks up into her, it crashes over her all at once, like a tidal wave.

Jemma barely has time to recover before Fitz rolls them over and drives into her, harder than before. She laughs breathlessly when he collapses on top of her after he comes.

“You shouldn’t laugh at guys during sex,” Fitz complains into her shoulder, his voice muffled.

Jemma pets his hair affectionately. “I wasn’t laughing _at_ you; I was laughing _with_ you.”

“I wasn’t laughing though!” Fitz protests. He pinches her side in retaliation, and Jemma pushes at his shoulders, laughing again.

“Sorry,” she says without contrition, as Fitz pulls out and rolls off of her. “It was just really cute, the way you flopped down at the end.”

“Cute?” Fitz scowls. “What happened to being hot?”

Jemma raises an eyebrow, amused. “Since when are you hot?”

“Since you said so.”

Jemma’s smile falters. “No, I didn’t.”

Fitz grins, his face lighting up with it. “Yes, you did.”

“When?” Jemma demands.

“It’s okay, Simmons, there’s no shame in it,” Fitz teases. “I’ve had sex a grand total of twice, so obviously, I’m a very desirable man.”

Jemma covers her eyes with her arm. “You’re the worst.”

“If I’m the worst, then why do you have the hots for me?”

Jemma turns onto her side to face him and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You said I was beautiful,” she reminds him, the words coming out like an accusation.

“Yeah, so?” Fitz retorts, refusing to be embarrassed.

It feels so familiar, to be hanging out in Fitz’s bed together, arguing and teasing each other, except for that they’re both naked and Fitz was just _inside of her_ , and the whole thing is honestly like 50 shades of bizarre.

Because it’s bizarre that they’re post-coital bickering and it’s bizarre that neither of them are making any moves to put on their clothes and it’s super bizarre that it doesn't feel more bizarre because it really, really should.

“So, uh, was it fun?” Fitz asks at the end of the night, as Jemma puts her clothes back on.

“What?” Jemma looks up from where she’s pulling on her pants. He’s still undressed, except for his boxers, and his hair’s a rumpled mess, and the smile on his face is cautious and earnest, and it occurs to Jemma that Fitz really is quite beautiful.

“That’s what you wanted right? For your first time?” Fitz reminds her. “For it to be fun?”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” Jemma smiles at him and ruffles his hair, just for an excuse to touch it again. “I had a really good time.”

*

After two weeks, Jemma is ready to admit to herself that as far as plans go, having sex with Fitz in order to stop thinking about sex with Fitz might have been really stupid. If anything, it accomplished the exact opposite.

Because now instead of wondering what it feels like to have Fitz’s hands on her, she’s remembering what it feels like to have Fitz’s hands on her. All of those fantasies Jemma uses to get herself off before bed are all of a sudden a million times more detailed and specific.

And if that’s not bad enough, she’s now seemingly incapable of getting herself off. She used to be able to pretend that her fingers were Fitz’s fingers, but she’s now painfully aware that Fitz’s fingers are the actual, literal best, and nothing will ever compare.

Now that Jemma’s realizing just how often she used to think about Fitz in order to get herself off, it kind of makes sense why she never had sex with her previous boyfriends. In hindsight, it’s kind of glaringly obvious.

She’s a legitimate, verifiable genius. How could she have missed this?

Fitz, of course, has been aggravatingly normal about the whole thing. He still jokes and bickers with her, studies with her without being overly tactile, invites her to watch movies in his dorm and sits next to her on the bed without making a move on her at all.

And the worst part of all is he’s _doing better in school than her_. Something clearly needs to change because this cannot stand.

Jemma’s first thought is to avoid Fitz for a week or so, or however long it takes to get over whatever this is, but that seems as painful and impossible as cutting off a limb.

Her second idea is to get Fitz to help her take care of her sexual frustration. It’ll be awkward to ask, but she doesn’t think he’d be opposed to it. He seemed to enjoy himself last time.

So during their next Friday movie night, as Fitz scrolls through their options on Netflix, Jemma clears her throat and asks, “So remember that time we had sex?”

Fitz’s shoulders tense, and he slowly, deliberately closes his laptop. “What about it?”

“You, uh, you liked it, right?”

“I’m an average red-blooded hetero male. Assume I like any time my penis goes in a vagina,” he says, his voice dry.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Fitz joins her on the bed and nudges her arm with his. “You’re forgetting something important, Simmons.”

“And what’s that?”

Fitz raises an eyebrow. “Your point?”

Jemma flushes. “Oh. Right. Uh, I was just thinking, maybe we could do it again? Or maybe if you’re not up for that, you can just finger me and I could, I don’t know, give you a handjob in return or something.”

Fitz is quiet for a long moment. Jemma fidgets nervously. “Why?” He asks finally.

Jemma shrugs. “Because it was fun, right? And I’m pretty sure you’ve ruined me because I have not been able to get myself off since-”

She’s cut off by Fitz’s lips pressing into hers. She kisses him back, desperate and frantic, her hands restless as they roam his body.

Fitz leans into her until she falls backwards onto his mattress. His fingers trace over the waistband of her jeans. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Jemma inhales sharply when he pops the button open. “Not likely.”

Fitz fingers leave her jeans to push up the hem of her shirt, placing wet kisses over the exposed skin on her stomach.

Jemma groans impatiently. “C’mon, Fitz.”

“C’mon what?” Fitz asks innocently.

Jemma tugs hard on his hair. “Put your fingers inside me.”

Fitz puts a fingertip inside her belly button. “Like this?”

Jemma kicks his butt lightly with her heel.

Fitz pushes himself up her body so that they’re face to face. “All you said was inside you; you didn’t say which part of you,” he teases. “For all I know, you could have meant your nose.”

Jemma snorts. “Yeah, that sounds like a real sexy time.” She scrabbles at his back, pulling his shirt over his head. “My nostrils are definitely an erogenous zone for me. Please pick my nose to completion.”

Fitz’s fingers hovers near her nose. “Well, if you insist.”

Jemma swats his hand away. “Stop being a dickhead and get me off already.” She pushes lightly at his shoulder so that she has enough room to reach down for her jeans, flailing a bit as she kicks them off her legs. “If you can give me an orgasm in the next five minutes, I’ll give you a blowjob,” she offers.

It’s almost comical how quickly Fitz shoves his hand inside her underwear. But there’s nothing funny about the way he curls his fingers inside her, stroking relentlessly at her g-spot.

She expects Fitz to stop after she comes, but to her surprise, he keeps going, working her through a second orgasm.

She lets her limbs flop onto the mattress once he pulls his hand out of her underwear, feeling loose and boneless. “Just let me rest for a couple minutes, and then it’s your turn,” she promises.

“So I did it in less than five minutes?” Fitz asks, flushed with pride.

Jemma blinks, still a little dazed. “What? Oh yeah, that. I wasn’t actually timing you, but...” She trails off, losing her train of thought, sighing happily instead. “Fuck, you’re the best. I love your hands.”

Fitz slumps onto the bed next to her, rolling onto his back. “Just my hands?” His voice is cautious; his eyes are trained on the ceiling.

Jemma turns her head to look at him. “No,” she admits. “Not just your hands.” She wants to move closer to him, which is difficult considering that they’re already squeezed pretty tightly together - the beds in the dorms are not spacious, to say the least. So she kind of rolls into him until she’s practically on top of him and kisses his shoulder.

And of course, once she’s on top of him, his dick twitches into her thigh, and it reminds her of what’s next. She starts crawling down the bed, kissing his torso as she goes.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Fitz tells her. “I won’t hold you to it if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I figure I should at least try. That way you can give me feedback if I’m doing it wrong,” Jemma says, pragmatic. She pulls Fitz’s boxers down his legs. “Do I need a condom?”

Fitz gives her a wry smile. “If you want, but I got tested after last time.”

Jemma bites her lip as she wraps her fingers around his dick, a little intimidated. “Has anyone ever done this for you before?” She slides her hand up and down.

Fitz groans, his head falling back. “No, you’re the first.”

Jemma takes a deep breath. “Tell me if I do anything you don’t like, okay?” And then she just goes for it.

She approaches the task at hand the same way she approaches everything else in her life - enthusiastically, and with the assumption she’ll be good at it. She can tell that it’s a little too sloppy, a little too clumsy, but judging from all the appreciative noises Fitz is making, he doesn’t seem to mind.

She has to stop to gag a couple of times, but soon Fitz is tugging on her hair, choking out, “Jem, I’m going to-”

Jemma pulls back and finishes him off with her hand. She reaches for a tissue afterwards, wrinkling her nose as she cleans the sticky mess off her fingers. “Maybe I’ll just swallow next time,” she muses.

Fitz raises his eyebrows. “Next time?”

Jemma flushes. “I mean, we don’t have to. But I figured we would do this again. Unless…”

“No, yeah - let’s do this again.” Fitz sits up to kiss her. “Let’s do this a lot.”

Jemma grins at him and pecks his lips one last time before climbing off the bed to search for her clothes.

“So, uh, dinner,” Fitz stammers from behind her.

Jemma bends down to pick up Fitz’s sweater from off the floor. “We already had dinner,” she reminds him, tossing his sweater onto his desk chair. “It was less than three hours ago. Did you honestly forget?”

“No, I meant tomorrow. I thought we could have dinner together.”

Jemma shimmies into her jeans. “Well, I mean. We always have dinner together. Right?”

“Yeah, but somewhere nice.”

Jemma freezes. “Oh.” She turns slowly to look at Fitz. She should probably say more, but the deafening thumping of her heart against her rib cage is making it a little hard to think.

Fitz rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Well, I just figured. Um. You know how we’re best friends? And that doesn’t have to change or anything, but I was thinking that if we’re going to be doing this a lot, maybe we could like, not do this with other people? And maybe we could be, I don’t know, best friends who are serious about each other and occasionally get dinner at restaurants with real tablecloths?”

Jemma smiles at him. “That sounds an awful lot like dating.”

Fitz shrugs, more stilted than casual. “Potato, potahto.”

Jemma sits down next to him on the bed. “You know, it would kind of be a mouthful to call you my ‘best friend about whom I am serious.’” She takes his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers. “It would be more concise to just call you my boyfriend.”

Fitz grins, equal parts relieved and fond. “That’s fine with me.” He leans in to kiss her, warm and sweet and perfect.

Jemma lies down next to him, figuring if they’re dating now, they might as well cuddle. “We don’t have to eat at fancy restaurants to be serious about each other, do we?”

Fitz kisses her hairline. “I guess not. Why?”

“Because if we were really best friends who are serious about each other, we’d keep our original plan of ordering pizza and watching Netflix and just add making out to the agenda.” She pauses, considering. “Or sex. You do have exclusive penis-in-vagina privileges.”

Fitz laughs, loud and delighted. “Yeah, that could be fun.”

“It’ll definitely be fun,” Jemma corrects him, snuggling into his chest. “I’m the best at fun.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I figured I should try smut once, and you can tell me if I’m doing it wrong.


End file.
